Blue and Gold
by Scruff the Rat
Summary: Just a few snapshots of interactions between characters of two worlds you wouldn't have expected to clash...
1. Left Unsaid

**Yeah, this crossover is going to be a bit interesing...**

* * *

**Arnold and Rouge: Left Unsaid**

Honestly...I can't say for certain why I ever opened that journal in the first place.

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission: sneak in, dig up dirt on the whereabouts of the next Emerald, and sneak out.

Easy, right?

Besides, this old shack of a boardinghouse doesn't exactly have the most advanced security system anyway. Regular burglars, sure, those saps would've fallen for it.

Not me—this gal's too sneaky for that.

'Cept...my curiosity tends to show me things I'd rather forget.

That journal's one of them.

It didn't look all that special at first. Dusty, slightly moldy, and wrinkly—not much of a find...

Course, when you've been in the business as long as I have, you better learn fast that looks can be deceiving. I guess I thought I'd take a look and see if Sunshine or any of the kooks he lives with knew anything about the Emeralds.

So...I took a gander at the inside of the journal...

It was beyond anything I ever expected!

Who could have ever expected such a dingy book to be full of so much adventure...romance...mystery?

But the heartache...that was the biggest piece of all in this little book.

A part of me told me to stop reading, to put the journal right back where it belonged and high-tail it outta here.

I didn't.

I couldn't.

Call me batty (no pun intended) but something deep down in my gut told that I just needed to do this, if not for my sake then at least for Sunsh—I mean, Arnold's.

And by the time I reached the end, for the first time for as long as I can remember, tears fell from my eyes.

Real, _actual_ tears...

I tried my hardest not to let them spill on the page I was on, but I'm pretty sure some of those pesky drops made it anyway.

So much for stealth...not that that mattered to me anymore anyway...

Quietly but solemnly, I returned the journal back to where it belonged.

But right before I was about to walk out, there was just one thing I had left say for the man and woman who'd left those memoirs behind.

"Maybe someday..."


	2. Indulge

**Blaze and Rhonda: Indulge**

"Oh Blaze, you must try this one! It's simply exquisite!"

The lavender feline could only raise an eyebrow at the dress being presented to her.

It kind of reminded her of her royal gown—deep purple, red sapphire on the hem, and white fuzz on the bottom of the dress.

To be honest, Blaze couldn't say she thought much of the article of clothing.

Being isolated and taunted for most of her life, she had never seen much of a reason to deck herself like a living play doll.

Unfortunately for her, the girl in red was apparently on a whole different mindset.

Regardless of her cat companion's protests, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd (a name Blaze has rather involuntarily memorized) would simply refuse to take "no" for an answer.

Blaze's back was to Rhonda so therefore the rich child had no way to decipher the feline's expression from her current angle.

'_Although I have to admit...that dress isn't all bad, right? I mean...,' _mused the princess with a slight smile.

Blaze quickly pulled herself out of her reverie, shocked!

'_What am I thinking?'_

But the dress...Yes, it was beautiful...Oh the heck with it, it was drop-dead gorgeous, but...Argh!

The mauve pyrokinetic nearly jumped out of her fur at the contact somebody's hand suddenly made at her shoulder. Turning her head, Blaze hummed a bit in confusion at the oddly sage look on Rhonda's face. The crimson-clad girl merely tsked.

"Oh, Blaze, Blaze,_ Blaze_—I'm not saying become a fashion diva (which is not as easy as I make it look, I assure you) but at least try something for yourself. Besides, since when has a little indulgence ever hurt anybody?"

Blaze was just about to retort...then stopped upon realizing the odd logic behind Rhonda's words. Believe it or not, that suggestion sounded like something Amy would say...and Blaze knew that the pink hedgehog had her heart in the right place (most of the time at least). Heck, one could even say Amy and Rhonda had much in common (aside from the former's love craze of course).

In fact, now the mauve feline thought it, Rhonda's words and intentions did sound sincere (even if slightly out of character with the pre-teen's usually haughty demeanor).

Besides, Rhonda did make a valid point: a little indulgence every once in a while could never be that detrimental...it actually sounded kind of fun in fact.

So with that same grin growing on her muzzle, Blaze faced Rhonda.

"I suppose I could try just one dress."


	3. Something's Off

**Oops, I forgot the disclaimers for the last two chapters! Oh well, it should be obvious that I own neither Hey Arnold or Sonic the Hedgehog (despite sounding as cool as that fantasy sounds).**

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**Olga and Sally: Something's Off**

Sally Acorn wasn't quite sure what to make of Olga after a while. At first, the blonde had seemed perfectly nice and content, the complete opposite of what Helga had described to the Mobian squirrel.

In fact, Sally could go almost far enough to say that this young woman was the direct opposite of her younger, irascible sibling.

Then somewhere along the way—Sally couldn't say exactly when—Olga's airy demeanor seemed to have had faded away for a second.

In that short expanse of time, the bipedal mammal obtained a glimpse of not a brilliant young woman well on her way in a life of success.

Who she saw instead was a very, very tired person, someone about ready to keel over from the pressure of her parents' expectations and the weight of the world waiting for her to do another encore.

Eyes could reveal so much...and Sally wasn't sure whether to feel proud of her anymore... or sorry for her.

* * *

**Ya'll know what to do!**


	4. Served

**Omega and Oscar: Served**

"Suzie, make me a sandwich!"

"Oscar!"

Pausing in the hallway, Omega noticed the odd scene taking placing before him.

If he had had an eyebrow to rise up, he surely would have raised it.

A fairly young blonde female was standing angrily over a cowering, balding, red-bearded man that had his hands clasped together as if in forgiveness.

"Oscar, this is the very LAST time! I'm going to live with my mother, and that is final!"

Much to Suzie's surprise, however, Oscar looked away from her and in the direction of a certain mercenary machine. Only when Suzie raised her head did she finally discover where her soon-to-be ex-husband's mind was heading.

Unfortunately, before the curly-headed blonde even opened her mouth to protest, Oscar had already left his place by her legs and stood boldly before the massive robot, a sly smile on the man's ruddy face.

"Hey you, you're a robot, right?" Oscar asked Omega, pointing a finger at him, "That means you're supposed to follow people's orders."

'_Oh dear...'_ Suzie thought in fear, taking a step back timidly. She personally had seen Omega in action before. To say the least, she'd rather not see anyone—even Oscar—turn into a smoking pile right before her eyes.

So imagine her shock when Omega instead answered in a cool and even voice:

"To be more precise, sir, my original format was to follow only Doctor Eggman's orders. Now, due to my time on Team Dark, I have achieved what you humans may call a 'will of my own.'"

'_Oh Oscar please don't.'_

"Hee-hee-hee, then in that case, YOU can make me a sandwhich!"

On second thought, maybe she_ wouldn't_ mind seeing Oscar turned into ash...or least being given the threat of that.

"OSCAR!"

"Very well."

Wait a second...Omega just complied! Suzie couldn't believe her own ears!

"See Suzie, at least he gets it." Unfortunately for Oscar, who was now facing a wide-eyed Suzie in smug satisfaction, he never saw what Omega was doing behind him...

"Would you like to be served medium rare or well done?"

"Eh? What the heck is that supposed to-?"

CLICK!

About 30 different types of arsenal, each of every one of them now pointing right out of Omega's titanium body, now aimed at their shell-shocked target.

Needless to say, Oscar had nothing to offer as a rebuttal to that answer.

Therefore, being the semi-sensible man he was, he took the only option that made logical sense: running.

Omega, weapons now stored away, and Suzie only watched as Oscar sped from the hallway and out of the boardinghouse faster than either of them had ever suspected he could.

"Um... thank you, Omega," the blonde replied awkwardly after a moment of silence.

"My pleasure, madam!" The mercenary machine went so far as to bow his head and place a clawed hand on his chest in courtesy, much to Suzie's pleasant surprise.

"However, I am severely disappointed the current environment prevented my execution of at least one of my missiles. I have not partaken in sufficient enjoyment in a while."

Suzie only shrugged to no one in particular. Who was she to question the hobbies of a walking, talking arsenal?


	5. End of the Bargain

**I own neither Eggman nor Scheck. Heck, I don't even own the _media_ they're from! Sad, isn't it? :(**

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**Scheck and Eggman: End of the Bargain**

"Listen, I made myself _very_ clear. You supply me with the materials _I _need...and I pay _you_ back in return with the financial support your company needs. Honestly, Scheck, I can't see what was so hard to grasp about such a simple bargain."

For the second time that day, Alphonse Perrier du Von Scheck had to facepalm in clear frustration at his "ally's" apparent lack of comprehension.

'_If he weren't the sponsor for my company, I'd—Now, now, Scheck, no need to lose our temper...'_

Besides, Eggman would surely understand! After all, he himself was no stranger to setbacks, right?

"Eggman, my dear..._friend_...," the CEO began with a falsely amiable tone and a cheesy grin to match, "perhaps I haven't made_ myself _clear."

And so the former executive shared with his business partner the whole story of how a money-laden plan for bigger and better change—a glorious plan to convert an ancient, rundown neighborhood into a massive corporate beaut of a shopping center—was reduced to a full-scale fiasco by a couple of fourth graders. Strangely though, Eggman's face seemed to become harder and harder to read as the story went on. Even after Scheck finished, still no reaction emerged from the rotund scientist.

In fact, the explanation continued to receive silence from a blank-faced evil genius for a few more moments...only for that silence to be filled to the brim abruptly with raucous laughter! Heck, the obese genius nearly fell out of his floating chair from doubling back!

Scheck did not feel as amused.

"I'm being serious!" the offended executive growled, his pearly white teeth gnashing in the dim lighting of the central control of Eggman's ship.

Unfortunately (and much to Scheck's ever-increasing chagrin), Eggman, account of his guttural guffawing, still seemed lost in the apparent "hilarity" of the CEO's recent flop!

"O-ho-ho Scheck, you really should _warn_ people before spilling yarn like that! _Two_ actual nine-year olds," Eggman stuck out two fingers and, with his other, pointed to the first finger to count of, "—one with a bizarre stack of hair..."

Then (with an even stronger fit on the horizon) pointed to the second finger before continuing, "and the other with a football-head ya say—managed to best not just a _grown man_, but the CEO of a highly successful company as well?"

Okay, that was it!

To be laughed at twice in one day—first by the whole neighborhood and the mayor herself, then by his own ally—already held enough mortification for Scheck. However, to be called a downright liar for allegedly making up a story detailing what was (at least in his own grandeur opinion) the most _pride_-crushing... _spirit_-dragging...and _hope_-defying defeat _ever_ to fall upon him...

To say the least, Scheck was feeling quite close to busting a vein on his neck right now!

Too bad Eggman was in no mood to get into an argument...especially since _someone_ here had decided to shirk his own end of the bargain.

The CEO barely had time to open his mouth to retort before the rotund scientist, disappointment now substituting the amusement that just been present moments ago, promptly and without a second thought pressed a button on the left hand handle of the rotation chair he was seated in.

Instantaneously, a gaping hope opened up in the metallic floor and swallowed Scheck up before closing mechanically and mercilessly on the man's fading screams.

Eggman didn't even shed a tear. Then again, would you wanna shed a tear for somebody who doesn't follow through for _you_?

Exactly...!

'_Well __**that **__was a flop!'_ Eggman mused in annoyance before swiveling in his chair and moving it until he reached his gigantic computer monitor.

"Note to self: never count on meatheads _or_ figureheads to do a mad scientist's job."


	6. The Right Thing

**This part is sort of a different take on "Arnold's Hat." Amy belongs to SEGA Corporation and Helga belongs to Craig and Nickelodeon.**

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**Amy and Helga: The Right Thing**

"You did _**what**?_"

A large but still feminine hand clamped the pink Mobian's mouth shut, the owner of said hand glancing around intently before looking back at her companion with a cold steel glare.

"Criminy, Pinky, do ya want the whole _neighborhood _to hear you?"

Amy merely slapped Helga's hand away, huffing indignantly more at the younger girl's misdeed with a certain article of clothing than the girl's offhand idea of keeping a person quiet.

Helga threw her hands in exasperation at Amy's reaction.

'_Sheesh, I've heard this chick go gaga over Blue Boy ever since she showed up here...and __**now**__ she wants to follow the football head's example?'_

"Oh for Pete's sake, Ames, don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same with something _Blue Boy_ lost!"

The blonde could only smirk at first as Amy gasped at her words. Indeed, the uncanny similarities in drive that the two girls of carnation each held for their green eyed angels—and therefore supposed hypocrisy in one of them denouncing the other's actions—would no doubt convince Amy Rose of the futility of arguing against Helga's decision to take Arnold's tiny, blue hat.

'_Hah, sorry, sister, but no one gets the up on Helga G. Pataki in an argument!'_

Indeed, the carnation hedgehog even closed her eyes solemnly and tore her gaze away from Helga...almost as if she was admitting defeat.

Such was not the case...

Helga, just on the verge of giving Amy a sarcastically fond farewell, paused in mid-rotation at the sound of the Mobian's soft voice.

"You know something, Helga? I _have_ done stuff like that before with stuff Sonic's lost and I've found." Deep within her tone was a solemn quality interlaced with undercurrents of gentleness and understanding.

In the few months the two girls had gotten to know each other, Helga had come to recognize such a heartfelt tone...the kind of tone Amy only used when she let her own heart do the talking.

In all honesty, the blonde could easily relate. Heck, she used that same kind of tone herself numerous times before whenever secretly exclaiming her love for uniquely-headed "love god."

But this time had a slight difference...Amy wasn't hiding that tone and emotions woven within it from the public...at least not from Helga.

Green eyes returned halfway as their owner shifted her vision back to the attentive blonde. There was no mistaking the unexpected dreamy smile on Amy's muzzle!

"'Cept...I only kept the little things that never meant much to him or that he wouldn't miss— his napkins, torn up gloves, locks of his quills, even chewed gum," continued the teen hedgehog in frankness. She put her hands behind her back as she proceeded with her confession, but never took her eyes off Helga.

"I could never take away the things that mean so much to him. That would be too much like taking away a piece of his soul away from him! It would be unfair to him...and it would be unfair of me to do that to him, love or no love!"

And Amy would not have her love for the Azure Wind otherwise! Yes, that's right, Amy Briar Rose may be passionate, she may be obsessed, and, hey, maybe she _is_ a tad crazy...but, dang it, she wanted Sonic's heart and she wanted it in a way that she'd be repaid in love returned!

Call that weird or being forceful, but Amy knew where her morals were!

'_I just hope Helga understands what I mean, though.'_

Actually...Helga, when Amy looked back up, _did_ seem to be listening, so that, in itself, was a promising sign. However, it didn't necessarily guarantee that the pigtailed child had been seriously contemplating the words being spoken to her.

Amy merely sighed, not annoyed but rather amused by Helga's unawareness of her own naïveté.

'_One more shot...then I'm leaving the rest to her.'_

"Helga, if you really _do_ love Arnold," the carnation furred female, hands clasped as if in prayer and that same dreamy smile from before returning to her face, urged softly, "then you'll think about how much that hat really means to him and do the right thing."

No more left had to be said, Amy knew that much. So, without so much as a single goodbye, the pink Mobian turned on her heels and strolled away from the Pataki girl as easily as a leaf blows in the autumn wind...leaving a bewildered and speechless blonde to her own thoughts and ever so allegedly nonexistent yet so very annoying conscience.

Aforementioned blonde suddenly kicked the ground in frustration after a few moments of deep silence. Her scowl said everything.

"_Oh..._criminy...!"


	7. I Don't Dance

**Shadow belongs to SEGA and Eugene belongs to Craig and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

**Shadow and Eugene: I Don't Dance**

Oh this kid _had_ to be kidding.

"And dance! Dance! DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANCE!" Eugene sang, finishing his grand dance number with a stylish—and non-accident induced—knee slide to the front of the stage.

The Ultimate Lifeform executed the perfect facepalm. "You're not kidding."

Eugene leapt up in a way so that not only was he standing erect once more, but also facing the incompliant chaos controller.

"Oh c'mon, Shadow," the redhead cheered with his hands gesturing 'Give us your best shot.' "You'll like it once you get into the rhythm of it. Trust me!"

An eye twitched on the ebony Mobian's face_. 'This kid's just asking for it, isn't he?'_

And no, Shadow was _not_ referring that thought to the humiliating choreography.

"I don't dance."

A coughing sound from the nearly nonexistent audience caught the hedgehog's attention...and caused him to close his eyes and sigh in clear frustration.

"If it'll get Arnold off my back..."

* * *

**I sincerely hope that I had Shadow in character here.**


	8. What Did You Say?

**Knux is SEGA's and Pheebs is Craig and Nickelodeon's. **

* * *

**Knuckles and Phoebe: What Did You Say?**

"Um Knuckles...are you honestly sure about this?"

The crimson echidna glanced back at the meek, blue-clad Japanese-American girl that was standing by the tree, her hands clasped in front of her timidly. Right now, the two unlikely companions were on top of a high hill overlooking a vacant construction site.

Knuckles shook his dreadlocked head, scoffing lightly. "Look, nobody said you _have_ to join in, right?"

Phoebe put a hand to her chin. "Well no..."

'_Exactly...That's why she's better off going home now... It's way too dangerous out here.'_

"Besides, you've already helped enough with finding a piece of the Master Emerald. There's no need for you to get in the way down there."

And with those words spoken, Knuckles proceeded to walk down the peak. If that echidna had looked back, though, he would have seen Phoebe crossing her arms and developing a rather peeved expression.

"_Pardon_ me?"

Her miffed tone halted the Mobian in his tracks, causing him to look back once more, only this time to fix the girl with a confused expression.

"Huh...?"

"_Well_...?"

'_What's up with __**her**__?'_

Though bafflement caused him to speak slowly initially, Knuckles effectively regained himself, shaking off Phoebe's distempered expression dismissively.

He had no time and was in no mood to get into an argument...especially with a girl.

"Well, you can't fight as well as _I_ can...or anyone else for that matter. Pretty much all you'd be doing is slowing me down."

That same nettled expression never left Phoebe's face. "I see."

Before the Emerald' guardian even had a chance to blink, Phoebe pushed him aside as she stomped her way down the hill, the petite preteen grumbling indignantly along the way.

"Wait a second! Where are you going?"

No reply emanated from the school brains of P.S. 118. She was too irked by the echidna's masculine insensitivity to really give a hoot...

'_Hmph! Slowing you down my __**grade-point average**__!'_

...thus leaving a thoroughly perplexed Knuckles to scratch his head.

'_What did I __**say**__?'_

* * *

**Knux...you've really never heard of tact, have you? **


	9. Disappointment

**For those who may not be aware, Shift is actually one of the displeasuring Sand Blast Freedom Fighters from the comics. I own neither him nor Phoebe.**

* * *

**Shift E. Wolf and Phoebe: Disappointment**

She couldn't believe this. She just couldn't believe how easily that horrid wolf had played her—how they had_ all_ played her.

'_Bunnie, Sonic, and Tails...they were right all along.'_

And she had no one but herself to blame for the current situation.

How could she have been so blind and ignorant?

As if today were being tampered as part of a plan by Fate to deepen the distraught Japanese girl's pride-wounds even further, Shift strolled jovially over to where Jack had left her after certain..."justifiable reprimands" had been made. There were no scars on her body...but even if there had been, they would have paled in comparison to the emotional blows the Sand Blasters had dealt to her—especially from Shift...

"My sincerest apologies, Ms. Heyerdahl," he cooed overly sweetly, his hands clasped in mock sympathy, "but I _regret_ to reveal that our leader Jack has decided that you have become more of a liability than an asset to our cause."

O, how she wanted to send a haymaker into that mutt's snout! Just the sight of his smug grin brought Phoebe's blood to a boil. Instead, the young, scarred girl picked herself up, surprisingly calm as she addressed the russet hound.

'_No...You're better than this, Phoebe Kyoko Heyerdahl. You're better than __**him**__.'_

"I wanted to be like you. I thought you were cool." She defiantly rubbed away her once dominant tears, her Helga-like scowl nothing but prominent on her delicate face.

Shift merely tsked condescendingly, shaking his head as he did.

"Oh my dear, naïve Fifi, the world is riddled with ignominious failures and disappointments. You are a prime example of both."

And with those coolly stated yet scathing words left in the air, Shift nonchalantly turned his back on his former fan and gaited back to Sand Blast City...leaving a young adolescent Phoebe out there in the orange tinted evening-time desert, heavy and deep in thought.

Before too long, a faint, buzzing noise brought her attention to the far-off horizon. Just beyond the glare of the sinking sun, she could spot the shadowy shape of a familiar fighter plane in the distance.

A gracious though slightly sly smile replaced Phoebe's frown.

'_I'll show __**you**__ who's an ignominious failure and disappointment.'_

* * *

**A bit of an open-ended conclusion, I suppose...**


	10. More Than You Know

**Arnold belongs to Craig and Nickelodeon. Ozzie belongs to me.**

* * *

**Arnold and Ozzie: More Than You Know**

_'Calcite...rhyolite...serpentine...Wow, he's even got topaz!'_

Believe or not, Ozzie Burroughs was having the time of his life, sitting up here in Arnold's room, passing the time until dinner by examining and mentally listing off the specimens in the young, oblong-headed boy's mineral collection.

All the while, Arnold, situated upon his bed, which lay in one corner of the expansive room and right under the skylight, appeared to be engrossed in a mystery novel of some sort.

_'No doubt another one of those Purdy Boy novels again...' _Ozzie couldn't help thinking drolly, eye-rolling.

The young Talpidean had read one of those books himself one day and honestly..._His_ opinion...? Well, needless to say,_ Vector_ had a better selection—not to mention taste—in whodunit literature than Arnold.

Regardless, Ozzie had to admit. Literature aside, his new friend certainly had an eye for minerals and technology. The mole knew the latter for sure on account of the various gizmos and gadgets that abounded in Arnold's "humble" abode.

_'Honestly, I have got to bring Tails and Rotor up here next time. If **I **think this place is awesome, then just wait 'til **those **two come up here.'_

Indeed, the fox and the walrus would have a field trip the second they'd step through that door. Unfortunately, though, most of Ozzie's friends, Sonic included, had somehow gotten caught in the stream of favors from the boarders. As a result, Ozzie, being of the lucky few to have dodged the eccentric occupants of the boardinghouse, had nothing left to do besides hanging out.

On the bright side, however, Arnold, usually the one to help out around his own home, was actually free for once, too, and had suggested keeping the laconic mole company throughout the rest of the warm, lazy Saturday afternoon. At least this way, neither of the boys would be alone for the next few hours.

"Hey Ozzie...?"

Despite being subconsciously irked by the sudden intrusion of Arnold's voice—Ozzie didn't give a dang how soft it was— the Mobian fixed his companion with an even, blank look. At this moment, the Purdy Boy novel was laying at Arnold's right side, closed but also with a monochromatically blue bookmark sticking from the middle of the book's somewhat thick page-stack.

The expression, though, was the _real _attention grabber for Ozzie. Arnold's emerald eyes were downcast as their owner frowned pensively and rubbed one arm with the other.

_'Is something wrong with him?'_ Ozzie thought in slight concern.

"Yes...?"

Green eventually met brown as a sigh escaped in reply. "Have you ever met someone named Helga?"

_'Who wouldn't have by now?'_

But Ozzie had a suspicion that whatever the reason was for Arnold's seemingly random inquiry, it held more personal significance than the younger male was admitting. Therefore, he kept the sarcastic comment to himself, and instead answered in his usual, terse manner.

_'Besides, anything to pass the time would be kinda nice.'_

"Yeah...why...?"

Amber twilight focused on the boy's spot, giving him a sort of orange spotlight, even though some of the light's penumbra spilled upon Ozzie and the remainder of the habitation as well. The resultant effect was rather pleasant to the eyes, one would have to admit.

Arnold merely shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Whenever she's around and someone mentions you, she suddenly gets all quiet and starts having this...distant look in her eyes. It's almost as if your name makes her think really hard about something."

_'Ah, curiosity then...'_

Curiosity killed the cat...or Football-Head as the case may be.

On the other hand, one couldn't quite blame Arnold for wishing to know about the mole's possible involvement in Helga's deceptively unprecedented behavior. Even to someone who had only known the fiery girl for a few months, such conduct was out of character for someone of the Pataki child's personality.

A slow, thoughtful nod and a softly uttered "I see," were all Arnold received from the Talpidean. The young football head tilted his cranium slightly to the side; that same inquisitive spark in his jellybean eyes remained glowing strongly, despite the boy's efforts to appear uninterested.

"Did you ever ask her about that?"

To that inquiry, Ozzie, much to the blonde's surprise, smirked and wagged a finger as if to say "Naughty, naughty...!"

_'Oh no, Arnold, I'm afraid that's one question you'll have to find the answer to yourself.'_

"Confidential...Sorry..." replied the geomancer in an apologetic tone; his smile toned down a bit.

Arnold merely sighed compliantly. _'Then I guess I better not push him then.'_

"Oh...No, it's okay. You don't have to apologize. I'm just a little surprised by how much of an effect you have on her."

Ozzie silently mouthed 'oh' in firm comprehension. "Get that tons..."

"Wait, what?" his human peer asked in confusion, an eyebrow raised. Ozzie, however, had gone back to examining the minerals. He still gave Arnold an answer, though.

"Sonic thinks so...too. A lot do."

The Shortman boy hummed a bit in boyish puzzlement. _'Yeah...kind of like...'_

"Now that I think about it," Arnold had a hand on his chin now. "...you _do _kind of remind me of Brainy. He kind of has an effect on people, too."

_'I guess it's just a coincidence.'_

As soon the blonde turned back to his book to continue reading, the Talpidean mole merely rolled his own eyes once again.

_'In more ways than you can imagine...'_


	11. Too Easy

**Yes, I know. Rouge is SEGA's and Harold, Stinky, and Sid belong to Craig and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

**Rouge and the Three Stooges (Harold, Stinky, and Sid): Too Easy**

Ah, there they were right now. From where Rouge stood on the concrete sidewalk, she effortlessly spotted the boys with no difficultly for all three were in plain sight under the sizzling summer sun, the trio of knuckle-heads hovering around and whispering excitedly about whatever. Probably gawking all over the big-nosed kid's frog again...What did they call Big Nose again—Sid?

'_Boys and their creepy-crawlies...'_ Rouge could not help sighing amusedly. Now all she needed next was to turn on the charm and sweet talk and...

"Why hello, boys...!" the Mobian bat chirped cheerily as she sauntered up to the preteens and waved a hand at them in friendly greeting.

Almost as if by some metaphorical switch, Harold, Stinky, and Sid snapped their attentions to the seductive lady bat before them and donned quite possibly the dopiest grins ever to have been donned by human beings...or by any beings in general.

'_Bingo...! __**Instant**__ putty...!'_ the snow-furred G.U.N. agent cheered internally.

Sid waved an eager hand, that chipper grin never leaving his face. "Boy howdy, Rouge, fancy seeing _you_ here!"

His country companion nodded vigorously before adding his own two cents to the conversation. "Howdy, Miss Rouge...! Sure is a fine day, ain't it?"

Keeping in key with one's own act is essential, so Rouge plastered on her face the perfect frown of a devastated woman as she continued. "Yeah...listen, I lost some jewelry the other day, and I was hoping if you three could maybe help dear, little me get it back."

Harold crossed his arms and nodded haughtily. "Hey, sure, we find lost stuff all the time!"

Apparently that assurance had puzzled the heck out of Sid, though, since the kid queried his rotund leader with an unsure expression and a baffled "We do?"

Harold's glare, much to Rouge's unsurprised (though still secretly satisfied) gratitude, proved to be the only signal he needed. "I-I-I mean...what am I saying? _Of course,_ we do!"

"See? We'll get your jewels back in no time," this plump preteen announced with an overconfident grin. It was almost shocking how smoothly that boy could snap from giddy to ticked and vice versa.

Rouge merely returned the expression, all the while mentally tsking at the unbelievable gullibility. Even Knuckles would have known better than _these_ meatheads!

'_Oh well, they __**are **__only kids...'_

"Really...? Oh, you boys are just _too_ sweet!" Okay, that comment might have been laying the compliments a bit thick there...but, hey, this bat had already gotten herself in t_his_ deep into her scheme. Might as well go all out...

All at once, the boys shyly looked away, lesser versions of their previous beams from before on their faces, as their cheeks suddenly reddened to the same shade of ripe tomatoes. Harold and Stinky both put their hands behind their backs, the latter rubbing a foot on the pavement. Sid had a hand in one of the pockets of his jeans as the other rubbed the back of his head. They all looked positively adorable in such a state of bashfulness!

Actually, that same bashfulness almost incited Rouge to rethink on her plan; she gave the ground a thoughtful frown as her hands went akimbo. Yes, they _were_ only kids. At least when she manipulated folks like Knuckles and Amy—folks _older _than the Three Stooges, actually— _some _resistance came, positively guaranteed. Heck, getting such disgruntled reactions one of the Mobian bat most personally enjoyed hobbies sans hunting down priceless jewels. These three kids, however, fell for her faster than a ton of bricks! _'Hmm...maybe I oughta loosen up on the poor things...'_

Luckily, though, the boys, in all their natural denseness, hadn't noticed her uncharacteristic hesitation. "So where do ya want us to start first?"

Rouge gave out a quick "hmm?" before realizing her tiny slip-up and catching herself fluently. "Oh well...," she smirked implicatively as she tapped her chin, "it's been an_ awful_ while since I last saw those jewels. Hmm..., you sweethearts wouldn't happen to have any ideas on where we should start, would you?" She raised a thin eyebrow at Harold, Sid, and Stinky in falsely genuine wonder. "I'm open to suggestions, of course."

Harold, "Oh, oh, I say the arcade!"

Stinky, in his usual dopey tone, albeit with a touch of whimsicality, "I say the lake."

Sid, a tad irked at his buddies' blurting and glaring at them for said reason, "Well, _I _say the amusement park."

"No way, I'm the boss and I say we go to the arcade first!" Scowling childishly at his hat-wearing lackey, Harold even stuck a pudgy finger to his own chest to emphasize his infantile superiority.

Stinky took the gesture with a grain of salt by waving a hand off dismissively. "Come off it, Harold! You just wanna find an excuse not ta—"

And what was the grinning Rouge's thought during all of this quarrelling?

'_Nah, this is **way** too much fun!'_


	12. Overbearing

**Shadow belongs to SEGA. Helga and her family belong to Craig and Nickelodeon. Bold words like 'this' will indicate thoughts here since this whole scene was originally meant to be a flashback.**

* * *

**Shadow and Big Bob Pataki: Overbearing**

"Helga, **what **is the point of all this?"

Here was none other than **the** Ultimate Lifeform accompanying none other than **the** Helga G. Pataki of P.S. 118 on her way home. Hardly ever had the irascible girl interacted with the stoic hedgehog, much less conversed with him, so to say Shadow had been taken back the moment Helga asked him to accompany her would have been a gross understatement. Plus, Helga had been unusually quiet ever since the unlikely duo had moved out of the sight of the female's classmates.

"Trust me, Quills. You'll thank me for keeping this under wraps," the blonde whispered coolly and conspiratorially, though she still never looked his way. Shadow hummed bit at the girl's cryptic statement.

'**Maybe it has something to do with the Chaos Emeralds or Eggman.'** Was **that** why she appeared to be so secretive? The only other plausible reason Shadow could think involved a certain optimist, but, heaven forbid, even **this** hedgehog would rather not incur the wrath of Helga Pataki just because he had a case of motor mouth. Granted, a nine-year old would naturally be no match for Shadow, but that didn't mean he didn't wish to avoid physical conflict with Helga. To the ebony Mobian, she was practically another version of Maria—albeit an angrier, feistier version, sure, but still...The last thing he'd ever wish to bestow upon this girl is harm. In fact, Helga, unbeknownst to everyone save Phoebe, Amy, Milo, Bonnie, and perhaps Mr. Hyunh, Brainy, and Ozzie, had actually grown to trust the onyx being rather deeply. She could never quite explain why, but then again, maybe that condition was for the best. Helga obviously wasn't a person used to revealing her emotions on any level beyond that of privacy, a fact with which Shadow could relate all too well—perhaps another reason they clicked so effortlessly.

'**Which is why I'm going to be on my best behavior today—there's no ****telling ****what sort of people Helga's parents are.'**

Although...if the blonde's usual rants were any proof to go by, Shadow had a strong premonition he'd be in for a doozy.

Before too long, Shadow and Helga found themselves at last in front of the latter's towering, medium azure home. To any other person, this location would appear to be as normal as most other homes in Hillwood. However, Shadow knew better than to judge by appearance alone. All of a sudden, a sharp intake of air from the right caught the ears of the hedgehog. What Shadow discovered turned out to be Helga taking in a deep, heavy sigh to steel herself. One would almost think she was on the verge of entering a prison meant just for her.

An incredulous Shadow wondered in concern, his neutral frown shrinking just a tad. **'Is her family life ****that**** bad?'**

The sights and sounds that greeted the duo the moment after Helga opened the door proved to be all the answer Shadow needed.

Instantly, a loud, boorish voice bellowed out from the living room from the left of the duo. Shadow could see a dark umbra, cast by a huge, rotund figure, peeking out from the front of an old, burgundy armchair, a top of gray hair barely visible from the top of said piece of furniture.

"Hey, Olga, shut the door, would ya? You're gettin' the place drafty." If Shadow had only one word to describe the attitude of the voice, he would have chosen "indifferent." At least either that word or "blunt"...

"It's... "

The pigtailed girl spat only that much out in retribution before pausing. After a few moments of silence, Helga shook her head dismally, a weary sigh escaping her lips. "Oh never mind." If Shadow had been more emotion-savvy, he would have gasped at the uncharacteristic sadness detected in Helga's voice. She almost sounded...defeated.

If the melancholy affected Helga deeply, though, she didn't show for much longer for she quickly brushed her gloom and off and switched back to her usual take-charge self. "Anyway, let's—"

However, the blonde received a heck of a surprise when she swiveled her head to the side to address her companion. Right before the girl's currently widened eyes, Shadow now had the arm of a tall woman, dressed in a tucked-in shirt, skirt, and high heels—all in purple—and with blonde hair duller than Helga's, draped over his shoulders. The hedgehog had one hand on the lady's arm; the other was on her somewhat thin waist, supporting her weight. Due to the drastic difference in heights, the woman's legs were comically dragging out from behind her, much like how her head appeared to bob a bit occasionally.

Shadow, however, did not find the situation humorous even in the slightest. "Helga, I found this woman sprawled out on the kitchen floor! We need to notify the hospital now!"

Immediately sensing the misunderstanding, Helga chuckled amusedly as she waved her hands out lightheartedly. "Whoa, whoa, take it **easy**, Quills! Trust me; Miriam's **always **conked out like this."

Red nearly dominated the Ultimate Lifeform's cheeks, despite his efforts to hold the color in. **'Oh...I see.'** Coughing awkwardly for a bit first, Shadow eased Miriam out of his grasp and situated her against the wall, making sure to position her so at least she'd be sitting upright. The ebony Mobian nearly offered a meek apology to Helga for his slight overreaction before a light moan from Miriam interrupted him, catching both his and Helga's attention. The out-of-sorts mother revealed her bleary eyes and adjusted her violet-rimmed glasses, taking in her surroundings a bit before landing her sights on Shadow. Much to the hedgehog's sudden confusion, a dazed smile came to Miriam's face the moment she saw him.

"Oh hi Helga, honey, when did you get a new haircut?" If Shadow had been more like Sonic, his face would have probably looked pretty ridiculous right now! Seriously, mistaking a blue hedgehog for a black hedgehog is one matter...but mistaking a black hedgehog for a human girl with blonde pigtails and a monobrow? How out of sync **was** this woman?

'**Is she...drunk?'** Shadow asked in his head, looking up for an explanation from Helga. The eye-roll he received in response, just like the male voice from before, clarified Shadow's inquiry. Speaking of the male voice...

A hefty, heavyset man in a green T-shirt, black belt, black shoes, and brown pants stomped his way from the living room and into the hallway. Needless to say, the man looked rather peeved about something. "Criminy, girl, can it with the shoutin' already! I can't hear my—"

Helga and Shadow knew instinctively they were in trouble the moment Big Bob's eyes landed on them and his half-conscious wife.

Everyone from a two-mile radius of the Pataki household could hear the Beeper King's irate yell, just as easily as if he were right next to you.

"MIRIAM!"

And that's how a closed-eyed, arms-crossed, leaned back Shadow found himself at the bottom of the Pataki stairs, patiently waiting out the heated debate taking place in the kitchen. Actually, the phrase "heated debate," as far as Shadow was concerned, would be more like a euphemism in this case...

"For the love of—what in crud's name were you thinkin', Olga!?"

"News flash: My name is **Helga**, Bob! So sorry it's so hard to remember after—Oh what was it again?—nine **stinkin' **years!"

"Hey, hey, hey, don't you go taking that attitude with **me**, Missy! You oughta know better than bringin' in some stray mutt from the streets!"

Okay, **that **insult had no need to be spoken—especially not so bluntly! Shadow could not help but deepen his grimace. **'Obviously, this man is too confident for his own good.'**

Instantaneously, Helga's sarcasm bit right through the air. "Oho, so **that's** what you think he is! Well, Bob, you gotta give my 'pet' props. He would have put **you** to shame in a dog show...that is if you'd manage to even **win** second place!"

'**On the other hand, Helga's more or less the same.'** Sometimes that child just didn't know when to maintain herself. With such poor self-control, there lay no wonder then why her kinder side proved so fleeting and rare. She'd never be able to win Arnold's heart in such a manner.

All of a sudden, a hulking shadow descended upon...well, Shadow. This oaf of a father evidently had a few cents he'd prefer to dish out in the Mobian's face. Oh well, the sooner this bombastic blowhard was satisfied, the sooner Shadow and Helga could continue on to the business at hand. For the young blonde's sake, the ebony hedgehog proceeded to be silent.

Big Bob stuck a meaty finger in Shadow's face, snarling, "And you **rodent**...! If you think you're gunna sponging off of **my **house—"

A rodent...? Hmph, this swell-headed excuse of an alpha male should have been counting himself fortunate that Shadow had a reason to restrain himself. Otherwise—

"DON'T **EVER** CALL HIM THAT!"

All sounds dropped dead, silenced by Helga's audaciously heroic exclamation, every other pair of eyes widened significantly. If Shadow hadn't been just as shocked by this girl's move, he would have smirked at the sight of Big Bob's haughty persona deflating like a punctured blimp. However, even under the current circumstances, the Ultimate Lifeform compulsively felt a sort of pride towards Helga. Not many children, sans Arnold and Milo, would have been so bold as to confront such a brute of an adult, especially an adult of blood relation, although Shadow could tell quite well how far Helga considered her father—and by extension her mother—as actual kin.

Already, one could hear the broken pride as Bob stuttered, too shaken to form a coherent response, "B-But...Olga—"

**Helga** would not have his nonsense any longer. The sharply raised palm saw to **that**. "Shut it. You think you know everything about everyone else—Arnold, his Grandpa, the boarders, Milo, Bonnie, Phoebe, Sonic, Tails, Amy—when **you** don't even know your own family."

Once again, stunned quiet dominated the scene, so Helga did what she did best. "Now if you'll excuse us, my **friend** and I have bigger and better stuff to be doing with our lives right now." And just like that, Helga, an understanding Shadow right at her side, stomped upstairs, never offered her so-called family a single glance back.

These two had already overstayed their welcome.

* * *

**I just love the Shadow/Helga friendship dynamics. I would have added a sort of epilogue, but I felt like this ending would suffice.**


	13. Keep in Touch

**Curly belongs to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon. Bokkun belongs to SEGA and 4Kids.**

* * *

**Bokkun and Curly: Keep In Touch**

Monday, January 29th, 8:35 a.m.: Rhonda Wellington Lloyd comes up the corner of the street that leads to P.S. 118 Elementary School.

Apparel: Red shirt, black pants, and red shoes (as usual)...Oh wait, was that a new shade of lipstick she had on her lovely, kissable lips?

'_My, my, my—isn't __**my **__little bijou feeling daring today?' _Curly, upon his outlook from the roof of a building that stood on the same street upon which Rhonda was strolling, made dead sure to copy down this new, enticing development in his tiny, personal, (surprise, surprise) red notebook.

"Hey!" a squeaky voice suddenly called out, interrupting the fanatic in his passionate scribbling.

"Hmm, who said that?" Yet Curly saw no one near him—not next to him, not behind him either. He wasn't about to look in front of himself—that'd be silly, even for him. Still, though...where had that voice come from? _'Could it be possible I have a new rival?'_

"Up here, genius!" There went the voice again, this time with a strong dash of childish snide thrown in. But hang on...Curly had looked in every plausible direction for the voice...so what about up? Thus up is where Curly focused his line of sight next and...Well, while the strange, pint-sized, horned, bluish-ebony creature with the red jetpack, red shoes, white gloves, silver belt, and tiny white pupils didn't prove to be the strangest spectacle the bifocal-wearing stalker had ever seen, it—or better yet, he—certainly wasn't the most normal or expected being the young boy had ever encountered either.

"Hey! You were that crazy guy with the jetpack!" the hovering being exclaimed, pointing a finger at Curly. "You're also the guy that shanghaied all those animals from the zoo, aren't ya?"

Curly Gammelthorpe couldn't help but grin smugly at this lad's accurate retelling of his seemingly impossible—or better yet improbable— feats. "I prefer the term 'liberated.' Glad to see my reputation precedes me!" Yes, indeed, the bowl-haired preteen blew a fist and rubbed it on the front of his shirt in clear pride. However, as Curly stared longer at the hovering imp, he couldn't help humming to himself and adopting a pensive expression as he rubbed his chin.

"What are you looking at?" the tiny being suddenly demanded, balling his fists and frowning defensively, evidently unnerved by this human's critical analysis of him.

Suddenly snapping his "thinking" fingers, Curly bore a smile in remembrance. "You're that egg guy's messenger, aren't you—Bokkun, right?"

Bokkun relaxed his fists and lightly gasped. "Yeah, I am! How'd you know that?"

"Call it my keen sense of intuition!" Of course, there also stood the fact Curly had seen the little messenger robot fly around the city some times before. He sure wasn't about to lose his "cool" appearance for the sake of sticking to the facts, though; that was for sure.

Then once again, the bowl-haired boy rubbed his chin. "Hmm, you know, I could find a use for a little guy like you! I've seen your handiwork before."

At these words, Bokkun's eyes lit up magnificently. "Really...?"

Instead of offering an immediate reply, Curly produced a stark paper square from one of his pants' pockets and stretched out the hand holding said square in Bokkun's direction. "Here's my card! Feel free to call me when business with Eggman goes rotten."

Bokkun accepted the card and spent a few seconds examining it in both curiosity and wonder before he looked back up at the older boy and smiled in gratitude. "Gee, thanks! See ya later, Curly!"

The bifocal-wearing fourth-grader merely waved back as the tiny robot flew away, the sounds of his red jetpack fading into the distance alongside with Bokkun himself.

Only when the smaller child finally vanished did Curly shake his own head in bemusement. "Just another day in the life of Curly Gammelthorpe..."

* * *

**Curly...and Bokkun...teaming up...?—Yeah, I know. I've just screwed the **_**whole **_**world over...tenfold. XP**


	14. Cheapskate

**The Babylon Rogues belong to SEGA. The Jolly Ollie Man and all other characters and elements of Hey Arnold belong to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

**Jolly Ollie Man and Jet: Cheapskate**

"WHAT'S the big idea!?" All heads shot towards a peculiar scene taking place in front of the Sunset Arms boardinghouse.

"Easy, Tweety Bird...$12 bucks and the bar's _all_ yours."

"I ain't payin' that much just for a lousy ba' of ice cream!"

"Then I'm afraid it's 'a _lousy ba'_ you ain't gettin'!"

Oh, the lengths at which that Jet's stubbornness could go...Wave massaged the "nose" of her beak due to the oncoming headache being provided by the fact that her own leader—_'I can't believe I just called him that.'_—was currently engaged in an argument with an ice cream vendor, of all people! Sure didn't help one bit that the neighborhood kids were starting to bundle up around the truck of frozen confections, no doubt interested by the verbal rumble taking place...

Storm, in the meantime, true to form, stood off dumbly to the side alongside the violet sparrow, completely at a loss at how to aid his boss in this "moment of crisis."

This time, Wave slapped a hand to her face. Idiocy knew no bounds whenever Storm and Jet were around. '_How did I end up with guys like these in the first place anyway?'_

Regardless, the female avian, in a rare bout of patience, opted to talk some sense into her emerald counterpart first. "Jet, just forget it. We can go to Slausen's instead."

Much to Wave's utter irritation, Jet waved a hand in her face in total, dismissive disregard. He never took the vision of his blue eyes off of the taller, cantankerous ice-cream man. "Nah, ah! I'm getting that ba' of ice cream one way or anotha'!"

"And if the boss wants to stay out here 'til this _chump_ gives 'im his ice cream," Storm bellowed out, sticking a thumb to his broad chest before crossing his arms, a dopily defiant frown on his beak, "then I'm stayin' too!"

Oh, the heck with it! These two knuckleheads were a lost cause! Besides, what would hold Wave back from leaving? Storm could play follower all the merry way to a heatstroke for all Wave cared, but this independent sparrow had more sense than the muscle-bound albatross (and Jet for that matter).

"Fine, have fun frying in the heat then, numbskulls!" And with those scalding words, Wave gestured her fingers off in a mock salute before walking off, not the least bit sorry about leaving her teammates behind. Neither Jet nor Storm paid any mind to her departure.

"So Tweety...what's it gonna be?" sneered the smug Jolly-Ollie Man. He made _real _certain to get in Jet's face—up-close and personal.

Then a change of the oddest sort happened. After a few seconds of gritting his beak, Jet suddenly relaxed for some reason, the tension in both his spine and jaw vanishing as simply as if the argument had never taken place. The Jolly-Ollie Man struggled between choosing to feel satisfied about the anthropomorphic bird's apparent acquiesce...or feel freaked out by the unnaturally calm grin on said bird's face. "You know somethin'? Forget about it!"

"Uh...boss?" Storm certainly couldn't qualify for being of average intelligence—both Wave _and _Jet could testify to that fact—but even _he_ could realize the out-of-character quality his leader was demonstrating. Jet was never the type of Mobian to leave things standing down so easily.

Then, for reasons unfathomable still, the darkly grinning Jet waved a finger to the side, motioning Storm to bend so that the smaller avian could whisper in his ear.

The unease in the Jolly Ollie Man only increased upon seeing the expression of the anthropomorphic albatross shift from puzzled to understanding...to devilishly delighted. Especially when the gray avian cracked his knuckles slowly and ominously...

"H-hey, hey, hey wait, what's with that look?"

* * *

Everyone in Slausen's, Wave included, felt the tiled ground shudder from underneath their feet, the tremor sending a fair number of glasses tumbling to the floor where they shattered instantaneously upon impact.

Wave, the purple Mobian seated in one of the red-cushioned seats that jutted out from the wall, managed to steady her glass of chocolate milkshake just in time. She waited a few seconds in the same position as she continued clenching her glass, warily glancing from side to side in half-expectance of another shockwave.

'_Somehow...I have a feeling I know exactly where that came from.'_

But just to make sure, Wave turned in her seat to peer out of the giant, open window just behind her. Yep, sure enough, the swallow just barely make out a plume of black and gray smoke rising from within the distance.

Everyone else in the parlor either gawked in dumbstruck awe or panicked like beheaded chickens.

Wave only shook her head in knowing irritation; her intuition had been spot-on, after all...as usual.

"I am _so_ not paying for the damages this time."

* * *

**Remember kids: never stand in between a Babylon Rouge and ice cream.**


	15. Ego Trip

**Drago and all other comic elements of Sonic the Hedgehog belong to Archie and the Sonic Team. Nadine and all other characters and elements of Hey Arnold belong to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon.**

**Milo belongs to me.**

* * *

**Drago and Nadine: Ego Trip**

Ever since meeting Rhonda back in preschool, Nadine always believed she would never meet someone with an ego to rival—much less surpass—that of the disgustingly wealthy and snobby heir to the Lloyd family fortune.

Boy had _she_ ever been proven wrong.

Case in point: "So face it, Bug Head! There's nothing you brats can do to pull the wool over _my_ eyes!"

The legionized, snow-white-furred lupine Grandmaster even threw his head back to let off a round of raucous guffaws, his sickly lemon eyes landing back on his prisoners after he (eventually) satisfied his desire to gloat.

Nadine and a fair portion of her sixth-grade class, including a petrified Mr. Frank, who hid behind an available desk, stood within the interior of a glowing, neon orange half-hemisphere—a barrier cage, courtesy of Eggman himself. No doubt the egotistical egghead had cruel plans involving the occupants of this school, especially in the case of a certain football-headed young man thankfully not trapped along with the rest of his classmates.

Actually, now that the insect enthusiast pondered about the situation more...

'_I haven't seen Helga, Phoebe, and Gerald either—or Rhonda and Milo for __**that **__matter.'_ Where on Earth could those guys have all gone in the craziness between Eggman's Metal Series storming the city and Drago's Dark Egg Legion assaulting P.S. 118?

Stinky, much to the surprise and awe of Nadine and the rest of their classmates and Mr. Frank, adopted a rather Helga-like glare and angrily retorted to the larger, menacing wolf, "An' what makes ya say that?"

Drago, though initially just as taken back by the country boy's attitude, easily slipped back into his display of overblown machismo. He jabbed a finger to his own furry chest and boasted, loud and clear for the whole class—not just Stinky—to hear, "Cuz, farm boy, I got more brains than everyone in this school put together! Even that squirt in blue can't match _my _brains!"

An arms-crossed Nadine rolled her eyes, unimpressed by the bombastic words; she'd heard better bravado from even Harold—and _that_ was really saying something. "Gee, you don't say," she uttered in a droll tone of voice that would have earned her a wink of pride from Rhonda and maybe even Helga.

Not the least bit discouraged by the sixth grader and her tone, Drago continued on, cybernetic arms crossed in front of his broad chest. "You bet! I'm the smartest, fastest, _and_ strongest of Eggman's Grandmasters! Why else do ya think he picked me for this assignment? So fat chance trying to sneak one past me, girly! Cuz I know everything!"

Nadine merely slapped a hand to her face. _'Geez, he __**is**__ even worse than Rhonda!'_

Unfortunately (for Drago himself, at least), everyone, so wrapped up in the wolf's ego trip of a speech, never noticed a yellow tuft of hair that peeked in from outside the door for the space of a second. Drago, however, due to his sensitive ears, _did_ notice the sound of footsteps...backing up? He frowned in confusion before turning his body in the direction of the classroom door.

He only managed to rotate himself half-way before...

"What the—"

**BOOM**

Mr. Frank and his class cringed at both the resounding noise of the crash and the resultant collision between the charged-in door, torn clean off of its hinges, and Drago, (unromantically) swept clean off his feet. As of now, the muscle-bound canine lay in a heap under the broken door, stars racing around his head. His comically dazed expression—complete with crossed eyes and tongue lolling off to the side—only emphasized his current state of unconsciousness.

Nadine, in slight amusement, raised an eyebrow at the so-called "genius" sandwiched onto the floor before she raised her line of vision up to behold a most welcome and comforting sight...off-kilter as it was.

Amy Rose and Rhonda, each with an oversized hammer in hand, stood side by side, nothing short of pride gleaming in both their eyes and smirks as the latter casually observed the classroom and tsked at its disheveled state. "Honestly, if all of you are going to invite the one and only Rhonda Wellington Lloyd to a party, then at least pick a place less...academically austere and askew."

The rich girl's entomologically inclined best friend only shook her head at the statement, in spite of the smile on her face. Nadine thought back to her earlier thoughts of someone being able to best Rhonda's sense of pride and confidence. Sure Drago talked the talk—even more than Rhonda did—but...

'_Then again, no one backs up their words like Rhonda can.'_

* * *

**Me: That's right, Drago, you mutt! Bow down before the might of Rhonda! **

**(Catches a certain pink hedgehog's glare) **

**Me: (rolls my eyes begrudgingly)...and Amy.**


	16. Simple Things

**Beauregard and the Dark Egg Legion belong to Archie Comics. Mr. Hyunh belongs to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

**Hyunh and Beauregard: Simple Things**

All the stares...all the guns...and those creepy robot limbs...

_'Oh, how did I get into dis mess...?'_ persisted as the only thought in the frightened foreigner's mind as he reluctantly marched past the barracks, flanked on each side by an armed anthropomorphic being in purplish-black robes. A harsh, golden sun scorched the land as the sand simmered like griddle.

Only yesterday, he had been a simple man living a simple life in a simple boardinghouse. Now, here he was, trapped in a base that might as well have been on another world and taken prisoner by strange half-robot, half-animal creatures. His only hope at this point would be survival.

After a few minutes of walking through hallways that seemed to stretch on forever, the trio stopped in front of a wooden door. One of the guards, some species of canine, reached past Hyunh and jostled the brass knob. He opened the door far enough to poke his head past the jamb.

"Baron, your guest is here."

"Send 'im in," a deep, Southern voice replied. Its owner sounded friendly enough; maybe things wouldn't turn out as badly as Hyunh thought.

A rough shove sent the Vietnamese man tumbling past the threshold. After managing to right himself, Hyunh took a moment to observe his surroundings. There wasn't much in the room as far as décor was concerned. In fact, now that Mr. Hyunh more closely inspected the place, he noticed that the habitation possessed a rather Spartan quality.

An audible cough brought the man's attention to a wooden office desk. In front of it was a simple, brown chair. An identical chair stood behind the desk, except it was occupied. The seated individual, a well-dressed cowboy rabbit that seemed to be around Hyunh's age, gestured a hand to grant his guest permission to move forward.

The lapine stood up as Mr. Hyunh nervously stepped forward. "You must be that Hyunh fella my Legionnaires found."

"Y-yes..."

The rabbit, in an act of benevolence, waved his hand once again. "Now, now, there ain't no need for concern, Mr. Hyunh," he assured with a warm smile, which the addressed tentatively returned.

"Beauregard Lee Rabbot, leader of the Great Desert Chapter of the Dark Egg Legion...," the Grandmaster explained as he stuck out his cybernetic right hand as a means of greeting. Hyunh warily scanned the hand for a few seconds before gripping in one of his own, the metal cold against his skin. "And you're..."

"My name...? It is...Yiang Mahana-Hyunh. I took my wife's last name when we marry."

Beauregard raised an eyebrow, surprised at this detail. "Really now...? There ain't too often these days married couples who go decide ta keep both last names like that."

Yiang deeply blushed with a shy smile at this observation. He looked off to the side out of embarrassment. "My wife...she was very, um, adamant about keeping last name..." _'And very __**persuasive**__ about it as well...'_

The lapine's strong voice, in spite of its gentleness, cut through Hyunh's thoughts like a razor. "You may refer to me as Grandmaster or sir. Don't matter which you decide on, Yiang. I ain't picky on what my subordinates choose to call me for the most part."

Subordinates?!

Yiang froze up at the implications of that word. His eyes shot back to Beau in sheer horror! "B-but I do not wish to be part of this Legion! I-I am sorry Mr. Rabbot, but I have family back home. I have wife and children waiting fo' me!"

This was all a _huge _misunderstanding! All Hyunh wanted was to return home. He had no idea what these animal-people did for a living, but if the metal limbs and weapons meant what he feared they meant...

"Funny thing is...so are uh good chunk of the people working unda' me." Even in the thralls of panic and fear, Yiang at least managed to gaze up at Beauregard, whose words and face both displayed no trace of malice or mockery at all. On the contrary, the wizened Grandmaster, his face set in firm sympathy, stepped out from behind the desk and walked around the side of it until he and Yiang stood face to face, their eyes on level with each other.

"I'm sorry, Yiang," Beau regretfully admitted as he shook his head, placing his organic hand on the shoulder of the human male. "You've already seen so much of this base. To let you go would put thousands of lives at risk—and I don' just mean the ones back home. No going back..."

That was it then. There lay no other reasonable option for Yiang. He could just run for all the good that would do him. The soldiers would shoot him before he'd even manage to leave the building. And Beau would most likely hold him down before he could even as so much turn towards the door. Yiang would rather not take any chances with the lapine's strength.

_'I will never see my family again then...I am lost again...I am lost...'_ Defeated and forlorn, Yiang dragged his feet as he sulkily shuffled to the chair and planted himself into it with a despondent sigh. He could already feel the tears stinging his eyes...

"What are your special skills, if you don't mind me askin'?"

That voice dug Yiang out of his depression enough to remind the man of Beau's presence. The Grandmaster, during the Vietnamese man's moment, took his own chair and, the second Yiang dropped into his own, deposited it next to him. Now the rabbit was sitting right next to him, his metallic hand gently rubbing circles into the poor soul's broad back. All the while, the tender sympathy never left his steely blue eyes.

Yiang opened his mouth to speak, but stumbled at first. His voice quivered with pure anxiety, his denial still strong in his glazed eyes.

"I am...good chef," he quietly answered.

Beau's thick, orange eyebrows flew up in pleasant surprise. "Oh, we could use anotha' hand in the kitchen. Head chef's been complaining about there bein' too much workload lately."

His happy expression did little to cheer Yiang up. Beau scolded himself for his unintended insensitively. _'That prob'ly wasn' the best thing ta say...'_

Yiang cut him off before he could offer an apology. "Yes...okay...I understand...s-sir."

The feeling of metal around his shoulders made Hyunh turn his sights back onto Beauregard, who smiled at him as easily as if the two men were long-time friends. "'Course, whenever no else's around, you can just call me Beau. I got no problem with that either...And you've been in a war before. I can tell. Your eyes say everything."

"Y-Y...Yes...I have." Yiang had no other words to say at this moment, but he could tell there was something Beauregard wished to say, so he merely gestured the rabbit to continue.

"Sometimes in war, we lose track of the simple things," Beau stated with a wistful tone. He held his fleshy hand out into the open air. "Day in, day out...waking at first in the illusion that everything's fine...that everything you saw yesterday was just uh bad dream...'til you walk out your door and see it's as real as can be."

Once his arm felt the shuddering of Yiang's back, the rabbit at first mistook it as a sign of an upcoming fit of tears, which would've been appropriate considering Yiang's situation. He didn't, however, expect the sound of constrained laughter, of all things, to ring into his tied-up ears. Beauregard needed to take a double-take the second he discovered Yiang to be not crying...but actually laughing!

Beau nearly lost balance from his chair a second later because Yiang suddenly slipped an arm around the rabbit's waist and started slapping his own knee like a madman. The wider man went so far as to even lean against Beau's side for support—somewhat of a difficult job for Beau, especially at his age. The Rabbot barely managed to keep both him and Yiang from tipping over and falling onto the floor.

"Whoa, take it easy, damn it!" Beau yelped in a tone somewhere in between fear and irritation. He was completely taken back by this man's offhand sense of affection! "If you wanna roll around on the floor laughin', be mah guest, but don' take me for the ride!"

"I-I...I am...sorry, sir! I-I mean...Beau!" Hyunh gasped in between laughs. As his unexplained mirth began to die down, he relaxed his body, his arm detaching itself from Beau's waist. Beau likewise removed his own arm from Yiang's shoulders, feeling the man had to be feeling alright enough to suddenly leap into hysterics in the way he just did.

"It is just," Yiang paused a moment to wipe a tear from his eyes, "When you said 'simple things,' I thought back to dis song I once wrote to play on my guitar."

Wait...this guy knew how to play the guitar? Beau jerked his head back in shock, the beads of his dreadlocks jangling from the sudden movement. "You write _an'_ play music?"

Yiang nodded. "Yes, I love to play! Ever since I come to America, I have always loved country music. I have always found it relaxing."

"No kidding...?" Beau returned in genuine curiosity. "Tell me then. Which country singers are ya partial to?"

Yiang leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, to ponder over this question. "Well...there _is_ this one woman named—"

From that point on, Mr. Hyunh chose to bear with being a cook for the Great Desert Legion. Though no pay was to be expected for the job, he didn't care. At least the task of helping prepare the food for the troops helped take his mind off of his worries, even if only for a short while.

And Beauregard, whenever they were alone, proved a reliable source of companionship and comfort, spending the quiet evenings with simple, heart-to-heart conversations with Yiang.

But never, not even for a second, did Yiang Hyunh ever stop thinking about his family. He never stopped thinking about how worried sick they were for him. Though he considered himself in good hands, he knew the Legion was not where he belonged. One day...one day, he would find the means to escape. The opportunity would come in time.

Just like back in Vietnam...

He only had to wait.

* * *

**When you think about them, Beau and Hyunh are more alike than you think. 1) They were both separated from their families because of a war and wished to reunite with them one day. 2) They most likely lost their wives. 3) They share a like, or at least tolerance, for cowboy attire. And 4) they're both dedicated family men. Oh yeah, and 5) they both have very bad tempers. XD**

**It almost scares me how many similarities exist between characters from two completely different worlds, much less different media.**


	17. Excuse Me?

**Mr. Hyunh and Oskar belong to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon. Cream, Cheese, and Vanilla belong to SEGA.**

* * *

**Mr. Hyunh and Cream: Excuse Me?**

"Oskar! For the last time, I will not be giving you money!"

For the third time today, the irate Vietnamese man slammed the door in the Czechoslovakian man's ruddy face. When will that leech **ever **learn?

Just then, though, Mr. Hyunh could hear a faint ringing in the distance: the dinner bell. Never before had he thought Grandma could have such perfect timing.

_'Perhaps food will calm me,'_ Hyunh hoped to himself as he held his growling stomach, his irritation already forgotten.

The way down, thankfully, was uneventful for the foreign fellow, especially since there was no Oskar in sight this time. At least Mr. Hyunh would have a few more moments of peace and solitude. Such qualities, after all, were rare in the Sunset Arms boardinghouse, so the Vietnamese man had learned long ago to treasure such calm moments and never take them for granted.

Taking in a deep, cleansing breath, Mr. Hyunh smiled to himself in the pleasant silence as he gaited down the last few steps to the first floor. Today—this very day— **will** end on a good note, he assured himself.

If only he had anticipated the surprise, blinking up at him with russet irises full of curiosity, awaiting him near the bottom. He heard her before he saw her.

"Excuse me, sir?"

The voice, soft as silk and sweet as honey, froze him in mid-step, but confused him as well, inciting the man to inspect his surroundings closely. Who had just spoken?

Then out of nowhere, Hyunh felt a gentle tug on one of his pants' legs. Though startled initially by the unexpected contact and nearly releasing an undignified squeak, the Asian man managed to catch himself and then gather the courage to obey his curiosity and peer down at his feet.

His eyes must have been lying to him!

Before him stood an anthropomorphic rabbit girl of such tiny stature that he would have surely tripped over her if her voice hadn't halted him in time. Her peach colored fur—marked by brown colorings on her head, around her eyes, and on the tips of her lengthy, floppy ears— her snow white muzzle, and tiny pink nose almost sparkled in the well-lit light of the adjacent hallway, only to be outdone by the liquid brilliance sealed in her expansive, brown eyes. The aqua cravat around her neck, meanwhile, did well in complementing her sleeveless, orange dress, accompanied by the white portions of her attire—collar, yellow-buttoned cuffs on the arms, and large gloves. Her shoes shared the dress's hue and had yellow trimming circled around their tops, reaching up to her medium-length, white socks.

And the craziest part...? She beamed at him as if there were nothing wrong!

Mr. Hyunh was speechless. Mr. Hyunh was shell-shocked. Mr. Hyunh—

"Hey Hyunh, what's with the kid in the rabbit suit? I thought Halloween was last month!"

...was **so **not ready to put up with another round of Kokoschka's madness.

So instead, the Vietnamese fellow, sighing as he felt his patience already beginning to be tested, shot a sharp glance at Oskar before addressing the bunny child, making sure first to soften his stare so he wouldn't upset her.

"Um, yes, who are you?" he questioned gently, adjusting his glasses to view her better. He bent down on one knee so he wouldn't appear so tall to her.

Both men went slack-jawed as the young girl suddenly bowed her head to them in respect! Mr. Hyunh, once again, couldn't believe his eyes! Ever since he had left his home country, the closest this immigrant had ever come to receiving such a gesture had been when he had accidently bumped into a young woman of Asian descent, one who obviously had been raised in a very traditional family, just like him, even though her family's culture had been Japanese rather than Vietnamese.

Regardless, Mr. Hyunh could not help but sense deep warmth bubbling up from within him, touched by this show of respect. Whoever were the parents of this girl, Mr. Hyunh had to grant them credit. This child's politeness would have put Arnold to shame!

"Hello, sirs; my name is Cream. My mother and I just moved in here with my dear friend Cheese. Right now she's downstairs, talking to Mr. Phil about the living arrangements."

Hyunh nodded. "I see. So...why are you here instead of with your mother?"

At this query, the bunny girl drew a concerned frown. "I'm sorry, sir. I only came upstairs to find my friend Cheese. No one's seen him since we came in, so I've been worried. Mr. Phil told me to go to his grandson's room to see if Arnold could help me."

"Oh no, it is...alright. You have nothing to apologize for. Perhaps I can help you find your friend?"

The tiny lapine perked at these words. "Would you really, sir?"

This dear child's smile was so infectious that Hyunh couldn't help returning it as he nodded. "Of course; besides, you are very, very sweet! I would hate to let a child as kind as you alone by herself.

"Oh, yes, please! That's nice of you Mr...um..."

"Hyunh—I am Mr. Hyunh."

* * *

**Hyunh and Cream...I think the potential fluff is about to suffocate me. :)**

**This would have originally been a one-shot romance between Hyunh and Vanilla, but I knew I would never get around to doing that, so I merged this into a chapter for the series.**


	18. In Style

**Hey Arnold and all of its characters and elements belong to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon. Sonic the Hedgehog and all of its characters and elements belong to SEGA.**

* * *

**Rotor and Gerald: In Style**

"Gerald...this is ridiculous."

A portly, lavender walrus with slicked back head fur glared at his reflection in the full-body mirror. He was dressed in a white, Elvis-style jacket that exposed part of his peach blubber chest, matching ankle-length cotton pants, black platform shoes, and (the piece of resistance) a golden necklace.

Rotor felt like he'd just stepped out of the 70s; he sure looked the part.

Standing right next to the flustered walrus was none other than Gerald Johansson, the most happening brother in Hillwood...and the reason for Rotor being in that suit. He winked in a suave manner and flicked a finger to his older companion. "Rote, my man, it's fly!"

"It's embarrassing!" Rotor retorted.

"It's hip!" Gerald returned.

"It's pointless!"

"It attracts the ladies!"

Rotor rolled his eyes and sighed at the boy's persistence. How did they even get into this silly situation in the first place? "Well, I don't see what lady in her right mind is going to—"

"Um, excuse me Rotor...?"

The familiar voice brought the attention of both of the boys to the open door, where a certain computerized lynx—brown-furred with black markings on her hands, feet, and ears, and clad in a flowing, purple gown—stood in the doorway, her usually tranquil face now wide-eyed, her mouth, now agape. Rotor blushed once he realized the reason behind his lady friend's shock.

"Um...N-Nicole...," the rotund engineer stuttered and stuck a mortified smile onto his face as he pulled on the collar of his outfit. Was the temperature in here rising, by the way? "Um, what brings you here? Heh, heh..."

What brings you here? Rotor couldn't believe he'd just said that! _'Oy, dismantling Eggman's machines is easier than this!'_

Nicole, in a moment of shyness, cleared her throat, crossed her hands in front of herself, and, in as level of a voice as she could, answered, "I...was going to notify you of the progress of the boardinghouse security system. So far, it has been displaying delectable—"

She shook her head at the slip-up and pretended not to notice Rotor's darkening blush. "I mean, that is to say, favorable loo—signs!"

Her spastic behavior earned her a strange stare from Rotor and Gerald, who shared a look somewhere in between confusion and disbelief. Rubbing the back of his hefty neck, Rotor hesitantly stepped towards the sentient program. _'There's no way she's attracted to how I look...right?' _

"Uh Nicole...is something wrong?"

"No!" Noticing how the boys jumped at her outburst, Nicole quickly checked her own self before replying again. She also threw in a nervous chuckle for good measure. "I mean...no, your...appearance merely surprised me, is all. No need to worry..."

With that assurance, Nicole disappeared in a rushed flurry of neon-green binary code, her head— and, ergo, her forced smile—the last feature to vanish. The two males merely stared for a few moments at the spot where she had just stood...until Rotor slowly turned his head to Gerald, who merely rubbed the back of his own neck next.

"Well...," Gerald dared an awkward grin, "you never did say _what_ kind of lady."

* * *

**Yes, I just shot for the RotorxNicole pairing. Got a problem with that?**


	19. Sickly Sweet

**Hey Arnold and all of its characters and elements belong to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon. Sonic the Hedgehog and all of its characters and elements belong to SEGA.**

* * *

**Wave and Lila: Sickly Sweet**

Blech! How much longer was Wave supposed to _take_ this? Storm could have volunteered for distraction instead—heck, maybe even Jet. Oh, but _no_, _she_ has to be the one to keep this kid from wandering around and possibly blowing the Babylon Rouges' cover.

"Miss Wave, is something wrong?" a young girl's soft, delicate voice asked in oblivious concern. That voice belonged to Lila Sawyer, the sweetest person Wave had ever met. And by sweet, we mean sweet! This kid could give that Cream kid a run for her money!

That was probably why Wave would have preferred _that _girl and her incessant chatter about Chao and flowers over _this _girl and her constant babbling about...well, everything. Seriously what the heck did Wave care about this Arnie guy Lila was crushing on? She'd never even met the little weirdo for corn's sake!

Having had her own head laid down on the table for the past..._twenty minutes, _Wave the Sparrow finally raised her head to give the empty space before her a full, seething glare. _'You mean besides the fact I need all my teeth filled now...?'_

But the avian knew she couldn't say that; she wasn't that heartless—mostly. So taking a deep breath for the sake of her nerves, she waved a hand at the country girl dismissively. "Eh, it's nothing. Listen, I've gotta meet with my friends for a meeting. Sorry to cut our conversation short."

Actually, Jet and Storm were currently ousting some kids out of a skate park that stood next to this restaurant so the two of them (plus Wave, of course) would have the whole place to practice with their gear. Lila was in the way only because she (aside from the secretly bound and gag workers) was the only person present in this eatery. The Rogues had no need for a snitch.

But hey, the sky could be raining fire right now for all the violet avian cared. _'Anything to get away from Sugar Queen here...!'_

Not that Lila noticed; the kind-hearted redhead simply shook her head and smiled at the sparrow. "Oh, well don't worry, Miss Wave, I'm ever so certain I don't mind."

For seemingly no reason whatsoever, the purple Mobian actually paused in her trek to the exit and looked back.

Call Wave crazy...but something in the tone of this kid's voice actually touched her heart a bit. Aside from that Helga chick, Lila was the only other human who'd treated the sassy technical whiz like an actual person instead of a freak—a nice change of pace in Wave's opinion.

And speaking of opinion, Wave thought over her first impression of the Sawyer girl; she shook her beautiful head with a smirk. _'And **I'm** ever so certain I'm now liable for diabetes thanks to you...'_

In a rare moment of her own sweetness, Wave gave a genuine smile back. "Thanks, kid. See ya."

At the avian's two-fingered farewell, Lila waved back in earnest as she stood up to leave as well. "Goodbye, Miss Wave! It was ever so delightful talking to you!"

_'Like I said, I'm ever so certain I'm now liable for diabetes thanks to you ...,' _Wave thought to herself as she approached the skate park, Extreme Gear in tow, '_but I guess that's diabetes I'm willing to live with.'_

* * *

**Wave/Lila friendship...? I'm just as surprised as you folks are!**


End file.
